Forget me not
by owlcat123
Summary: It was a cool evening when she reached the shire and spring was beginning to peak through the blanket of snow. The gentle sun's final rays were not potent enough, not nearly enough to warm Lirael that day. Nothing ever truly could, only the blood that rushed in her veins, their colour stark against her pale skin. a story about the beginning of the line of Astarael


Chapter 1

It was a cool evening when she reached the shire and spring was beginning to peak through the blanket of snow. The gentle sun's final rays were not potent enough, not nearly enough to warm Lirael that day.

Nothing ever truly could, only the blood that rushed in her veins, their colour stark against her pale skin.

Despite the lingering daylight no-one saw her enter the sleepy little village, perhaps it was simply because it was a day for snuggling up by the fire with a good book and a warm mug of tea; but that was unlikely to be the case with the grey pilgrim about.

Were there anyone there to see her though they may have though her a ghost, a ghost with raven black hair that seemed to swallow and light that dare to touch it and a face so pale no shadow could dim its glow.

She wore the grim expression that only accompanied those who had spent far too much time on the road to a destination they did not truly wish to reach.

Cinching the rich red fabric of a surcoat, slung shoulder to hip was a dark leather bandoleer, a silver dagger dangled at the end on a belt of lighter leather. The robe did not entirely conceal a flash of metal beneath; fish scaling armour that flowing like a second skin with every short clipped stride.

Lirael did not seem the sort of person one would like to meet after dark on a lonely road. What she lacked in build and height she most certainly made up for in demeanour. If anyone had sharp enough eyes though, they'd see her free hand pulled at the wayward thread of the surcoat sleeve whilst the other rested on the blood red pommel winking in the last light of the western sun.

Lirael hesitated at the round little door, its handle golden metal set at the centre gleaming like a watchtower in a sea of fading green wood. Why had she let the wizard persuade her to participate this ridiculous notion? She stood staring at the gleaming metal trying to recall his exact words which he used.

A bone-weary sigh escape her lungs as she shifted the bandoleer to a more comfortable position, raising a fist to the peeling paint. The boisterous chatter rumbling from within the hobbit hole suddenly ceased, followed by the patter of small feet behind the door.

The irate little hobbit swung it open in a huff, he was most certainly was surprized at her tardy appearance Lirael noted. At first she thought Gandalf had simply thought she would not come, but after further inspection of the little man, she began to suspect the wizard had neglected to tell him at all.

Sweeping her night black hair over one ear, she dipped her head and greeted the hobbit softly, offering no last name nor that of her family's either.

The hobbit replied courteously enough, his head jerking back a little, curls bouncing at the temples when he offered a strained smile. He let her into the hallway, after an awkward little pause when she made no move to leave her weapon with the others at the door.

Lirael nearly hit her head on the low hanging chandelier when she suddenly realised what he had been waiting for. She rushed back to deposit a long ruby hilted dagger on the stack, it could not have stood out more than a thunder cloud on a summer's day. The harsh grey metal and squared edges of Dwarven weaponry made the delicate filigree and bright silver shine all the more brilliantly despite the dim interior of the hobbit hole.

Lirael caught the hobbit staring in admiration of the fine weapon, flashing him a shy smile before gesturing for him to continue. The hobbit went on with a curious looking expression plastered on his face, strolling into the room Lirael had to duck under the arch coming face to face with the largest group of dwarves she had ever seen in the one place and probably the largest number of males she'd seen too. There were quite a few more than she had been told to expect as well.

The wizard holed up the closet corner of the room cleared his throat uncomfortably as all eyes in the room flickered from Lirael to himself.

"What is this? Gandalf? I asked you to find us a burglar not to inform every living thing from here to the Belgaer seas of our quest!" snapped a dark haired dwarf, his grey eyes seemed molten in the dark. His clothing was thick, a sure sign he had travelled recently from the north.

Lirael looked down at him a little bewildered by his reaction, clearly she was not the only one fully informed of this. She turned to stare intently at the increasingly uncomfortable wizard.

"Well…" the wizard coughed again, eyes sweeping over the carpet at their feet

"Gandalf…" the dwarf rumbled again

"She is my apprentice, and I will not be accompanying you for the entire journey so I took the liberty of procuring a supervisor"

"A supervisor" the dwarf spluttered, murmurings of indignation spreading through the formerly silent clan of dwarves.

"Yes" the wizard returned in a blunt tone seemingly regaining his mettle, oblivious to the look Lirael shot him at his most recent verbal misconduct.

The dwarves made outraged seem a mite too mild a word to describe the uproar that followed Gandalf's little speech. But it seemed the hobbit had finally reached the end of his rag.

"Enough! You've all come into my home without my invitation and..."

The room fell quiet again at this omission, aside from the angry hobbit of course, and once again the attention of the greater part of the room turned to Gandalf; the wizard simply shrugged glancing away whilst chewing on the end of his unlit pipe.

The argument that ensued failed to hold Lirael's attention for very long, the shouting and yelling failed to form words in her ears, drowning out the rant of Bilbo as well. Eventually she gathered that the wizard had managed to placate the first dwarf into a seething statue settled low in his seat.

"What I would like to know is when we are to learn the name of the new addition to our company." A wizened old dwarf with a huge tuft of white hair swept back over his head.

His voice cut through the chatter of the others silencing them all instantly, if the first dwarf was the leader of the group this one was definitely the brains of the outfit.

"Nehima" Lirael replied softly before remembering to add a "at your service"

Some of the dwarfs snickered at this last comment, she looked up briefly to the culprits before lowering her eyes to the floor.

"At yours and your family's" the dwarf replied kindly introducing himself as Balin

Lirael blushed at little at the last comment but before she could think any more on it an avalanche of introductions followed suit.

Dwalin, Oin, Gloin, Bofur, Bifur, Nori, Dori, Fili, Kili, Bombur, Ori and Thorin. Each of whom gave some sign of greeting as their name was called save for the final dwarf still stewing at the head of the table, he reminded her vaguely of a cousin she once knew. A spoilt little brat she could be whenever she did not get her way, though no-one familiar with the worries Thorin was acquainted with would have dare to compare him as such.

"At your service and your family's" they chorused at the end

Lirael set her face in a distant smile and dipped her head again.

"Onto business then?" one of the older few asked brusquely, he looked at lot like Thorin but Lirael had already forgotten his name.

"Wait!" Thorin all but growled hand raised in the air for silence

"I will not have this, a woman travelling in our company, is an absurd idea…"

"What do you wish for Thorin" Gandalf cut in, eyes flashing warningly

"A demonstration of skill?" everyone looked up at the gentle voice, it was the most Lirael had spoken thus far, a slight tinge appeared burning her cheeks as she focused solely on the dwarf before her.

"Not in my house" the hobbit, Bilbo piped up, he seemed thoroughly irritated that no-one paid him half a mind before.

Lirael shook her head quickly in agreement, edging hesitantly around the hobbit towards the hallway when Thorin said nothing in reply. The wizard remained where he was whilst several of the younger dwarves rose from their seats eagerly to follow her and their leader out.

Their duel was brief, knowing she was likely to be on the weak side concerning both strength and skill, Lirael used her agility against him. Ducking instantly into the inside to try and catch him unawares.

The dwarf simply spun her away again, waiting calmly for her to try and disarm him once more. They continued in much the same way until the dwarf had had enough, swinging him sword with great force he knock the blade from Lirael's grasp continuing to drive a path to her exposed neck.

Lirael instinctively threw an arm up to catch the blade. It was her right hand. Thorin's blow landed lightly enough, and this gesture had certainly surprized him if nothing else did. Lirael promptly grasped the end of the broad sword and yanked it out of the dwarf's grip before aiming it at his face with her other hand.

She lifted the golden glove up so the light of the windows danced across the surface, activating charter marks as it went. The dwarf's eyes narrowed on the hand, he seemed unsure of what to make of it, but it did not take him long to settle on disgruntled and angry.

Perhaps it was just his natural expression Lirael mused, like how her Aunt Kirrith who seemed prone to glumness no matter what the occasion or Sabriel and her fierce, grim-faced glowers. This led her to wonder what her own natural facial expression was, dog had said something about it once, yes pitiful.

She dearly hoped she was not getting into that habit again, partly because it was simply not desirable and also because Lirael half expected to turn around only to have her old friend give her a sharp nip, and dog had never been too fussy where.

Lirael quickly thrust the sword back into the dwarf's grip and hurried off to retrieve her own weapon. No-one spoke for a long time, not until those who appeared to be the younger two started whispering to each other. Lirael avoided looking at any of those assembled, making her way towards the house; ensuring that the glare she aimed at Gandalf would have made dog stop in her tracks. Well for at least a moment or so.

She refused the hobbit's offer of refreshments and not long after the other dwarves returned inside they started rolling out a rather extensive looking contract. She knew the dwarves had been discussing her and she didn't like it one bit. The only time anyone really talked about her behind her back was when Kirrith had been musing with her fellows as to what to do with her niece. It was certainly not a pleasant feeling to say the least and on top of that she appeared to have drawn attention to herself from the younger two.

"Incineration?" the hobbit asked incredulously his voice summoning Lirael out of her ponderings

Someone offered a rather elaborate description of what this entailed as though it were an explanation of technicalities the hobbit required not assurances that there was a mistake.

The hobbit turned away to stare blankly at the nearest wall, the he lowered him eyes hesitantly to the parchment again as if to recheck he had read it right.

The next thing she knew there was a thud in the hallway signalling that Mister Baggins had fainted.

So that was about the last they heard of Mister Baggins for the rest of the night, several dwarves rushed forward to help him up. Once they saw he wasn't coming round, plonked him unceremoniously in an armchair positioned by the fire place in the adjoining room.

One of them instantly made the suggestion that they should leave the contract in case he changed him mind when he came to, a chorus of murmured agreements followed and so Thorin Oakenshield was left to take the only recommended course of action. He did not look pleased about it. Bets were made including that of the wizard, of which Lirael thoroughly disapproved.

She was reminded of the conversation she had held with the wizard in their last meeting. It was perhaps one of the most important conversation she had shared ever since the little white cat lead the way to the well.


End file.
